“I’m so sorry,” she said and couldn’t get her feet to move fast enough. Time seemed to move in absolute slow motion, and for that fact, she could see without a doubt that the girl Jesus was fucking was Cheyenne. And Cheyenne saw her, too. “Fuck,” she said and rushed out the door, slamming it behind her.
Adelaide stood in the hall with her hand over her mouth. First of all, she’d just barged in on Jesus doing it, which was … hmm, a gigantic breach of privacy, although she suspected she was more disturbed by that fact that he would be. But he’d been doing Cheyenne, Alexi’s fucking girlfriend. Air was still not coming into her lungs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
They could be coming out this door any moment. Adelaide did not want to have that awkward confrontation. Maybe Cheyenne hadn’t seen her. Although Adelaide hoped she had, so the bitch knew that her cheating ways were observed. What a cow.
Walking down the hall, Adelaide wondered if she should just run out of there and leave that whole mess behind, but then she would get Chrissy and Trish in trouble. And she needed to apologise to Jesus for just barging into his office. How could she have been so stupid? Probably because she’d been too distracted worrying that Jesus would be ripping strips into her, which she knew he managed to do while staying completely silent. It was all in the look, and she was about to be on the receiving end.
She heard the door open and ducked into a photocopier room, full of paper reams and a massive photocopier. There was murmuring down the hall and then footsteps. After a sufficiently long time, she carefully popped her head out, seeing no one in the hall. Ugh, she didn’t want to do this, but she had to.
Knocking on his door, she waited for an answer, which she should have done the first time.
“What?” she heard from inside. He would likely to be furious, she thought as she cracked the door open, seeing him sitting in the chair at his desk, his finger to his template.
“I am so sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t even thinking.”
He waved her in. “What do you want?” He didn’t look furious, just tired, like the cow had zapped the life-force out of him, which she probably had, the damned vampire. Adelaide was trying to get the mental picture burned into her mind out of her head.
“Chrissy has broken her leg. They’re at the hospital.” She had probably made this news a whole lot worse by causing the little event proceeding.
Jesus sighed. “I am short tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Fine, fine. Go,” he said with a wave. He wasn’t angry with her; she had suspected that he wouldn’t care. He also wouldn’t care if she told the girls that she’d barged in on him fucking either—with fucking Cheyenne.
This whole thing left a bad taste in her mouth. Jesus had high standards when it came to girls, but Cheyenne, really? But guys were guys, and club owners—they pretty much took what they wanted. Compared to some, he was bordering on saintly. Though truthfully, her regard for him was slightly tarnished.
What would she do with this news? What was she obliged to do? Tell Alexi? Was that even her place? It would be the decent thing to do, but maybe he already knew and she would just be butting in where she didn’t belong. Discretion was practically written into her contract.
She almost felt violated when she walked back to the boat. Jens stood on the lower aft deck smoking a cigarette. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked in his abrasive German directness.
For a moment, she didn’t know what to do, whether she should just keep quiet and never mention what she’d seen to anyone. But this wasn’t her secret to keep, was it?
“Jens,” she started, but then didn’t quite know how to follow.
“Yeees.”
“I just walked in on Cheyenne with Jesus from Shine.”
“So?”
“I mean ‘I walked in’,” she raised her eyebrows to signify her point.
“Ooh,” Jens said when it dawned. “Dirty dog.”
“Should I tell Alexi?” Jens had a completely different world view, but she did appreciate his opinion, particularly in cases when she was completely lost what to do.
“Do you want to get fired?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then keep your mouth shut. This is none of your business.”
“But don’t we owe some loyalty to Alexi?”
“Alexi is not a stupid man. He knows exactly what she is.” Jens crossed his arm, the acrid smoke from the cigarette stinging her nose and she tried to wave it away. It reminded her a bit of Quentin, who apparently indulged, particularly when he was drinking.
About Jens’ advice, she wasn’t sure. If it were her, she’d want to know. Maybe she would just wait until Alexi turned up and then see if there was an opportunity for her to mention something. She didn’t feel right about pretending she hadn’t seen anything. It just sat wrong, even if Alexi chose to date an absolute gold-digger. Maybe Jens was right: Alexi had to know what she was.
Chapter 21
Cory sat in his boxers on the balcony outside Aggie’s room, facing a giant lawn. The pool was in sight in front of landscaped gardens that then dropped off a cliff, and the ocean sparkled in the early morning sun and crickets had started their song, but all else was silent. The sound of the curtain moving behind him told him Aggie had risen.
“There you are,” she said, wrapped in a silk dressing down. Her face cleanly washed and her hair brushed. She smiled at him, her skin rosy in the morning.
“I love the mornings here,” he said. Normally he didn’t wake up to a view like this, more like the neighbour’s house a meter away from his window. He could see Africa across the sea, hazy in the distance.
“You want a coffee or something?”
“Sure.” She disappeared for a while and returned a short time later. Obviously coffee was already brewing somewhere and it wasn’t instant. This was just as good, if not better, than the coffee shops where he tried and failed not to buy his coffee.
Okay, things were a little awkward right now, but they always were in the morning following the night before. They’d had dinner last night and then stumbled into her dark room, where they’d got it on. Aggie liked sex and had in no way been inhibited, which he appreciated.
The dressing gown slipped open over her legs as she crossed them, her coffee cup resting on her thigh. “What are you doing today?” she asked.
“I have to go to work soon.”
She smiled and looked away, obviously feeling a bit embarrassed at the awkwardness, too. Cory had no idea what Aggie would be doing that day. From what he’d seen, girls like her did very little. They had strange jobs like blogging, or interior design, but seemed to do very little.
The terracotta tiles on the floor were cool under his feet, and he ran his foot along, wondering what this hook up meant. It might just have been a one night stand, and he was down with that. Truthfully, he didn’t quite know what he wanted it to mean. Aggie was a cool girl. He liked her. They had talked a great deal during dinner—the music they liked, the concerts they’d seen, how they grew up. There wasn’t much they had in common, but when she smiled, the whole place lit up.
Finishing his coffee, he turned to her. “Unfortunately, I have to go.” Her house was quite far away from the road, so he’d have to call a cab to get to work, turn up in his going out clothes from the night before. Truthfully, it was far from the first time that had happened.
“I’ll drive you. I’ll just get dressed.”
Cory bit his lip because it was a sweet gesture and would save both time and money on his part. He followed her back into her bedroom, which was decorated in dark purple and light brown. It was a really nice bedroom and large compared to his own, which was just a wooden floor and white walls.
Finding his jeans, he pulled them on, along with his T-shirt. Aggie was dressed in shorts and a white tank top, the skin on her shoulders darkly tanned in comparison.
She was about to walk away when he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to him. “Hey,” he said
quietly, feeling her body along his. She smiled as he leaned down and kissed her. It had been a lovely night and he had to stop kissing her or he would not get to work in time. “Stop distracting me.”
A chiding look crossed her face, but she couldn’t stop smiling. He loved that smile.
The pool was quiet that morning and he sat in the shade through the worst of the midday heat. The guys had given him shit all morning, knowing full well by the look of him that he’d come straight from some girl’s bed. He kept quiet on who, but savoured the memories.
Thoughts of Trish crept into his mind as well. As cool as Aggie was, Trish just had that ‘in your gut’ punch of being a girl from home. It was like she knew exactly who he was and where he’d come from—something he couldn’t fully explain to Aggie.
On his break, he asked Pablo to cover for him and made his way to the utility area off the main kitchen, where they would eat more often than not. The club provided free food most of the time, and today Cory was famished by the time lunch came around, not having had time or opportunity to eat that morning. He hated skipping meals, but sometimes it just couldn’t be helped.
Lachlan sat down next to him on one of the chairs with torn or stained coverings. It wasn’t a bad space, surrounded by flowering bushes, but it was definitely a staff space. “So, I bet I know who you were pounding last night.” Lachlan held up his hand for a fist bump and Cory complied out of cordiality more than anything. “Nice.”
“She’s cool.”
“Nice car, too,” Lachlan said with a whistle. “Wouldn’t say no, is all I’m saying.”
Cory smiled. He had rather pulled off one hell of a score in the eyes of the boys. Those things garnered respect, even if it wasn’t strictly mature.
“You going to see her again?”
“Don’t know. She gave me her number.”
“That’s two nights in a row you’ve been hanging out with her.” It was two nights, but only one night of screwing, but he didn’t feel the need to highlight that fact. Lachlan was watching him, but Cory wasn’t giving anything away. He’d almost prefer if she made the decision and called. He’d feel awkward calling, but he might send her a text later.
The day continued like it had started: slow. The heat made people think of other things they could do that day. Some of the regular bar folk came as usual, but the tennis courts were empty and the gym was sparse. Cory hated days like this, but knew it would liven up in the evening when the punishing sun started to set.
Clicking heels approached and Cory looked up seeing Alice Cavendish approaching, wearing skinny white jeans and a turquoise top that seemed to float around her trim arms. “Mrs. Cavendish,” he said in greeting, straightening in his chair.
“Hi, Cory. No one is swimming today?”
“Too hot.”
“It’s been a shocker,” she said with a tight smile. “I’m getting a drink, can I get you one?”
“You know I’m not supposed to, but for you I’ll break the rules,” he said with a wink. “A sprite.” There were rules he was fine to break and rules he weren’t. No alcohol when working. That was a rule he never broke, even if he knew others had less qualms, which was probably fine if you were serving food or something, but he was a life-guard and that meant he couldn’t mess with his competence.
Alice went to the bar and ordered drinks from Pablo, Cory followed. “I’m taking a break,” he told Pablo, who nodded in response.
They sat down at one of the tables with its own umbrella. Technically the sun wasn’t unbearable now, but it was still nicer in the shade after a day with too much sun. Cory grabbed his drink and felt the coldness of the ice seep into his hand.
Alice stirred hers. “I signed up for the tennis this weekend. I’m thinking about doing doubles and thought I would get the inside recommendation of who would be good to ask.”
“Mr. Wilkers is quite good. You wouldn’t think of it to look at him, but he’s a fair decent player, and he’s without a partner.” Mr. Wilkers was one of the dot com wonder boys, all brain and no brawn, but he played okay, considering.
Alice brought her hand up to stroke along her lips, deep in thought—too deep to consider who her tennis partner should be. She stopped moving and blinked repeatedly, tearing up.
“Hey,” Cory said, reaching for her hand. She sobbed and her shoulders shook. “Hey,” he repeated, cursing that arsehole husband of hers. Some of the men here were true fucking dicks.
She looked down and her neat, brown hair covered her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking up again, trying to blink the tears away. Her eyes were shiny, making her look deceptively young and innocent.
“Whatever he’s done, it’s not you.”
She frowned deeply. She was about to cry again, and Cory knew he should get her somewhere private before someone saw her. The ladies here could be complete pariahs when it came to the gossip.
“Let’s get you a tissue,” he said, urging her to get up and walk around the corner where the more discreet outside shower was. He ducked into the changing room and whipped a tissue from a box, which she took, dabbing her eyes. She still looked so very hurt, almost sunken in on herself. “What are you going to do?” he asked. He didn’t need to know what her husband had done; it was more than obvious.
“He’s been awful. All I’ve ever done was love him and he treats me like I’m not even there.”
Cory sighed and wrapped his arms around her, which she accepted eagerly. “This is all him, okay. It’s not your doing.” Before working here and seeing how roughly some of these girls were knocked around—emotionally for the most part—he’d never really considered the girl’s perspective when a guy messed around. Dealing with these ladies had made him even more adamant about not letting anyone think a relationship was more than it was.
Her tears soaked through his shirt onto his shoulder. Looking up, she kissed him. He knew full well why she’d come to the club that day, and why she’d sought him out by the pool. She wanted him to make her feel better, make her feel wanted.
He took her up against the wall and the echoes of her pleasure reverberated through the small alcove they’d retreated to. Whatever kind of revenge or self-esteem fuck this was, Cory didn’t care. Alice deserved a bit of her own back and he was happy to help.
Chapter 22
Quentin laid his head back, feeling the hammock swing slightly underneath him as he lay in a shaded spot by the pool. The sun was bright and the sea shining, a speed boat disturbing the peace, reverberating around his aching head. He shouldn’t have drunk so much, but old habits died hard.
The chair next to him creaked and he looked over seeing Felix sit down, an open shirt hanging off his shoulders. “I didn’t know you stayed over.”
“Neither did I until I woke up. What the hell did we do last night?” he said, flicking the ash of a lit cigarette onto the lawn. “I seriously can’t remember the end.”
“After the tequila.” Damien did remember the end, even with the tequila. His prospect for the night had run out on him and it had just seemed a bit flat after that.
“There you go,” Felix shrugged. “It’s always the tequila. And who were we hanging with? Who was the guy Aggie was drooling over?”
“Trainer at the Athletic club, I think.”
“Don’t think I didn’t see you trying it on with one of the antipodean guests.”
Quentin tucked his arm behind his head and looked out at sea. “She’s a steward on Alexi Sumneroff’s boat.”
“Nice bod. Is this something you and Aggie have between you, some kind of competition on who can go more lowbrow?”
“Hardly,” Quentin said, a smile creeping across his lips. “Perhaps a joint appreciation of physicality.”
“That guy was seriously built.”
It hadn’t been the guy Quentin had appreciated, so much as the girl, Adelaide. The way she turned that suspicious look on him when he approached her. That wasn’t the look he normally got approaching a girl, but he liked how she
seemed incapable of hiding her feelings. “Aggie thinks we should expand our social circle.”
“Fuck that,” Felix said, flicking his cigarette butt into the bushes. “You two need to get over this little social experiment.”
“But mine hasn’t really started yet.”
Felix rolled his eyes.
“She is quite cool,” Quentin continued. “Got a bit of a sense of humour.” That was something that lacked with girls set on getting him in the sack. They were typically humourless, constantly thinking through how they could appear as sexy as possible. “I’m going to ask her out.”
A groan escaped Felix’s throat. “Dull. If you and Aggie are all about exploring how the scum lives, I’m out of here for a while.”
“Go where?”
“Maybe back to London. Paris? I don’t know. This is boring.” Felix always had the attention span of a gnat. “Party has to be happening somewhere and you seem to have lost it, my friend.”
He couldn’t rightly argue; something had shifted. “I have to go to Indonesia. Do you want to come?”
“No,” Felix said incredulously. “I said I wanted to party.”
Quentin felt like he was being a bad friend. “Alright. How about we do a weekend somewhere, just the gang? Get a house. What about Italy?”
Felix groaned.
“Dubai?”
“I’m over Dubai. I want something new.”
“Tanzania,” Quentin suggested a little derisively.
“I would, but I’m not sure Dad would be so happy to fork out of an armed guard. I don’t want hassle, spending hours getting there. Maybe Morocco. I haven’t been in a while and we can just take the boat across.”
Pursing his lips, Quentin thought it over. A weekend in Morocco might be nice. A little exotic to boot. “Yeah, alright.” Truthfully, Felix would have been a pain in the arse in Indonesia, needing to be entertained every moment of the day. It would be nice to have the gang together, rent a house in Morocco and just be away from everything. Morocco was only an hour away, but it really was another world.
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